


But, You're Dead

by Death_Shapeshifter



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Dark Thoughts, F/F, Implied/Referenced Cannibilism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Mercenaries, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-20 10:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death_Shapeshifter/pseuds/Death_Shapeshifter
Summary: After the war, Katniss sees Clove on several occasions, but thinks it is only hallucinations; she watched Clove die.Little does Katniss know; Clove is very much alive and working to keep Katniss unharmed from vengeful mercenaries, with some help along the way.





	1. The First Time, Two Days After The War

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is Clovniss and Lightening Shot posted this first, shhhh don't tell her, she's cranky right now. And so am I, because we're the same person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work was originally posted by The Death Shapeshifter on Fanfiction.Net

The first time it happens, it’s two days after the war.

Katniss walks quickly, dodging the occasional civilian. She had just visited Greasy Sae, making sure she was alright. A hood is pulled over her head, hiding her face from the cold breeze, and the curious gazes of passers-by.

  _‘You’re nearly there, Katniss.’_ She thinks to herself, and that’s when she sees her. It’s the glint of metal, that catches her attention, at first. And then, she sees her properly.

She’s wearing green combats, and an oversized zip up charcoal hoodie, and a blue t-shirt under the hoodie. The knife is in a sheath on her belt.

  _‘Clove...’_ Katniss thinks, but she quickly dismisses the thought. _‘Clove’s dead, just like everyone else. You must be imagining it, Katniss.’_ When Katniss glances over her shoulder, she catches a pair of dark green eyes watching her, and then, she’s gone.

 When she gets home, there’s a folded note lying on the coffee table. The doors, windows, are all still locked.  
‘What the hell?’ Katniss thinks, picking up the note and reading it. She drops it in shock, and flees the room.

_**‘I’m not dead, Fire Girl. I’m right here, in District Twelve. It’s hard to kill me, especially the monster that wanted you dead. I don’t want to kill you, not anymore, but we need to talk. Not now, but sometime. Watch your back, people want you dead.’** _

 The next morning, the note is gone.

 

_The second time it happens, it’s a week after the war._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Maybe leave a kudos, or comment?


	2. The Second Time, A Week After The War

The second time it happens, it’s a week after the war.

Katniss sits in the meadow, a small picnic spread out in front of her. Her bow and quiver are leaning against an old log, her leather jacket draped over it. She is enjoying a roll, with bacon layered on it. The sun is warm, a welcome change from the cold.

  _‘The snow is coming, soon it will be here.’_ Katniss thinks, knowing that this will probably be the last warm day for a while.

 She hears a crack, as if something had stepped on a branch. Her reflexes are fast, and she quickly has her bow aimed at the trees, an arrow notched.

 Out of the corner of Katniss’s eye, she sees _her._ She’s standing at the edge of the meadow, a knife held firm in her grip. She’s wearing a red hoodie, and black combats. Her dark green eyes are focused on Katniss.  
Katniss’s eyes widen, and she quickly aims the bow at her. Katniss can feel herself trembling, but she forces herself to concentrate.

  _‘She’s not real. She’s not real.’_ Katniss chants, in her head. _‘You heard her cannon go off, Cato’s screams. You saw her die.’_ She repeats this to herself, again and again.

 As if on cue, Katniss starts thinking about that horrible day. Seeing Clove look so scared as Thresh shouted at her, as Clove screamed for Cato. The sickening crack as Thresh threw her against the metal.

 When Katniss snaps out of it, she is gone. And Katniss sighs in relief, she gently puts her weapon back to where it was, when she screams in shock.

 On the log, right beside her jacket, is another note, this time with a knife holding it in place.

**_'You need to be more careful, Fire Girl. Start covering your tracks again, and don’t go out at night. People still hate you, and will pay for you to die. I’ve killed too many people already, just getting here, and I’ve watched too many people die, I don’t want to watch you die. I might just go crazy, even though I’m already crazy, and a monster. Stay safe, Twelve.’_** The note reads, no signature again. The page looks torn, and crumpled, while the other one was in perfect condition.

 Katniss grabs her jacket, the quiver and her bow, before running back to her house. She leaves the picnic, note and knife behind.

The next morning, the picnic is sitting on her doorstep. The knife sitting on top.

 

_The third time it happens, it’s a month after the war._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos?


	3. The Third Time, A Month After The War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *loud crashing sound* BOOM, I'm back! Is it bad I already have six chapters written, I'm just too lazy to post? Eh, who cares.

The third time it happens, it’s a month after the war.

 Pristine, white snow coats the roads, and the buildings. It seems as if someone had pressed pause on a movie, and everything was silent, frozen.

 A disgruntled post man knocks on Katniss’s door, shivering with the cold. He casts a wary look behind him, and the door slowly opens. He smiles, pulling a bundle of letters from his bag. “Good day, Ms. Everdeen. Have a few letters for ya, here.” He says, handing the traumatised victor the letters. “Have a nice day, Ms. Everdeen.” He tips his hat, and walks away.

 Katniss examines the letters, and makes sure the man is gone. She softly closes the door, and retreats into the warm sitting room.

_‘_ _Mother, Plutarch, Haymitch, stupid fan mail, wrong address, Johanna, Annie, Cressida, Gale and… her.’_ Katniss thinks, shifting through the letters. She throws the fan mail into the roaring fire, tossing the others onto the coffee table. She opens the one from her, first. Tracing her fingers lightly over the heavy indents on the page.

 Dashes of blood dot the page, marring several words.

  _ **‘You’ve been doing well the last few weeks, keep it up. Be careful though, the people who want you dead are here. They got here two three days ago, staying in the Dark Inn. St’**_ The writing stops suddenly, and the page is nearly torn in half.

  _‘What? Where’s the rest…’_ Katniss thinks. _‘Wait, it’s not real. She’s dead, just like Rue, just like everyone else, just like… Prim.’_ Katniss slumps as she thinks that, tears slowly etching down her face. Then, seconds later, she begins to scream. Grabbing things and flinging them across the room, she screams and cries. Finally letting go of her emotions.

 

 Hours later, her hands are bloodied and glass litters the ground. A mirror lies, smashed, by the fireplace. A gentle knock on the front door rouses Katniss from dark thoughts. She crawls to her feet, dragging herself over to the door. When she opens the door, she sees _her_ , standing at the gate, wearing a blue hoodie and green combats. _She_ has a gun, and blood is covering half of her face, splattered on her hoodie. Katniss stands in shock, staring. She stumbles backwards, and slams the door closed. Running up the stairs and into her room, locking the door behind her.

 A teenager, nineteen years old, stands beside _her_ , wearing a grey sweater and black camo combats. They also have a gun, and are splattered with blood. The teen is Hunter Fenton, younger sister of Titus Fenton. She volunteered after his death, and won her games.

 “She thinks we’re dead, and she’s crazy.” Hunter says, walking away. She turns to _her_ , smiling darkly. “Maybe, she’s right. We were killed, after all.” _She_ stays silent, watching the house. The gun remains by her side, blood etching a path down the barrel. “C’mon, stalker. I need your help with the bullet in my shoulder.” Hunter says, pressing a hand to her right shoulder. Blood is already sweeping from the wound.

 The two disappear, Katniss watching them from her window.

 

_The fourth time it happens, it’s three months after the war._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm, Lynn Gunn is very adorable. She's such a dork, can I marry her?


	4. The Fourth Time, Three Months After The War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you didn't think you'd see the last of me I would hate to disappoint you all.  
> -  
> -  
> -  
> -  
> Trigger Warning, Suicide of a character is mentioned, he is not a main character in this gay story do not worry.  
> Trigger Warning, mentioned cannabilism. Titus's sister is crazy and likes drawing creepy stuff. No surprise there really.

_The fourth time it happens, it’s three months after the war._

 

Katniss barely leaves the house anymore, choosing to remain inside, in the isolation of her room.

 She draws, sketches of her fellow tributes, it’s not the best drawing, but, it’s enough. Sketches of Rue in the tree, the Careers asleep beneath her, Foxface staring at her, startled, Peeta painting his arm.

 Katniss had opened the letter from Plutarch, to find that Peeta had died. Swallowed a Nightlock pill. A painless death, and Katniss wonders, on her bad days, did he deserve a painless death.

 She also found out, that there were rumours, about the Leeg sisters. That they had been pulled out from the rubble, alive. Katniss wondered, during sleepless nights about it.

 A note had arrived, but not from _her_ , it was from Hunter. The writing was messy, some letters only half formed.

  ** _‘Everdeen, stalker ain’t sending ya a weird lil note, ‘cause she’s in hospital. Her head was giving her problems, and she collapsed. She’ll be fine, don’t worry. Heard about Bread Boy, sorry for your loss. He was a good kid, just… too soft. He also tried to kill ya, but… so did stalker, so y’know. Ah, see ya around, Everdeen -Hunter’_** The note read, there was small sketches on the paper, of blood dripping off a blade. Slightly sinister.

 Katniss had seen the two _ghosts_ , she was wandering around in the new Hob, looking for that blasted cat. They were standing by a stand, that was selling scraps of metal, twisted into elegant shapes.

 Hunter was wearing black camo combats, a navy bomber jacket, with a dark red t-shirt underneath. A handgun, was tucked in the belt. She was carving something onto a piece of wood, using a small knife.

  _She_ was wearing navy combats, a dark leather jacket, a white shirt underneath. There was a knife, strapped to her thigh. She was slipping a metal wolf into her pocket.

 Katniss noticed them first, she was watching when Hunter nudged _her_ , proudly showing off the carving. _She_ had reacted, and suddenly turned to stare at Katniss, dark green eyes piercing deep into Katniss’s soul.

 Katniss had run, unable to bear the dark green eyes and the greyish blue eyes watching her.

  _‘The blasted cat will be fine.’_ Katniss thought, running the entire way home. _‘He found his way home from Thirteen, he can damn well find his way home here.’_ She had repeated this while running home to not feel guilty.

 The next day, Buttercup was in the kitchen, and lying on the table, was a piece of metal twisted into the shape of a howling wolf, a sinister sketch from Hunter, and another note, that pointed out the kitchen window was unlocked.

 The sketch was of Titus Fenton, surrounded by half-eaten bodies. His face was smeared with blood, as was his neck. He was baring his bloodstained teeth, pieces of flesh caught in his mouth. A crushed heart sat in his left palm.

  ** _‘Sorry about Hunter, she’s crazy, like her brother. By the way, you left the window on top of the sink unlocked. That’s how we got in. Better fix that, Fire Girl. Nice sketches.’_**

 

_The fifth time it happens, it’s five months after the war._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, they motivate me, not as great as cuddles but they work. I'm working on a hell of a big chapter so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Love you Jamie and I'm this close to tossing you into the lake


	5. The Fifth Time, Five Months After The War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi *waves*
> 
> How was your day? Must have been boring if you're here reading this kinda good story.
> 
> Please, enjoy. Have this lovely hot chocolate I made, and maybe write something nice for me :)? *slides hot chocolate towards you*
> 
> *disappears as sounds of explosions fill the air* Sadly there will be no popcorn, make your own, don't use any of the microwaves. I don't have any right now.

_The fifth time it happens, it’s five months after the war._

Mrs. Everdeen bustles around in the kitchen, she had arrived back in District Twelve two weeks ago. She was different, a tiny bit happier since Katniss last saw her.

 “Hey mom.” Katniss rasps, she had finally started talking again. “What are you doing?” She asks, drying her hair.

 “Making pancakes, want some?” Mrs. Everdeen offers, pointing to a plate heaped with steaming pancakes. “There’s some maple syrup in the cupboard.”

 Katniss shrugs, and helps herself to the pancakes. “These are… _really good_.” Katniss moans, shuffling over to the table.

 “Glad you like them.” Mrs. Everdeen laughs. “Oh, you got two letters this morning… the boy delivering them looked so familiar, his name was Hunter I think.”

 Katniss frowns, picking up said letters. She opens the one from Hunter first, instantly paling.

  ** _‘Katniss, the lads that want you dead are here. Be careful, for once. DON’T GO OUT ON YOUR OWN, DAMNIT! DON’T ANSWER THE DOOR FOR ANYONE! DON’T LET YOUR MOTHER GO ANYWHERE ON HER OWN! Stalker’s freaking ecstatic, she’s been bored the last while. No sketches from me this time :( too busy killing people -Hunter \\_(0-0)_/’_**

 

 The second letter is from _her_ and is much messier. The page is held together with masking tape and dotted with blood. While Hunter’s looked like it had been completely dipped in the stuff.

  ** _‘The people that want you dead are here! And you still won’t listen to me! They will attack you, torture you, kill you. And you’re going around defenceless! On your own! This isn’t a bloody horror movie, dumbass! Or some video game! If you die, you die. You won’t get a second chance like me, or Hunter, or those twins- if they’re even still alive- you die, and people you care about will be left behind! How would your mother deal with that!? She’s already lost a husband and daughter! She’ll die if you go, just like my mom._**

**_Look, there are people here. People that are being paid big money to kill you, real big money. Me and Hunter are trying to protect your dumbass, least you could do is make it a bit easier! We can only protect you, if you do that weird thing called helping! Do you know what that word means? Hey, it’s your word of the day! H-E-L-P-I-N-G! CAN YOU READ THAT!? PRONOUNCE IT?!’_** The writing is jumbled, slightly hard to read.

 “Are you okay, Katniss?” Mrs. Everdeen asks, concerned as her daughter starts to laugh, first time she had in a long time.

 Katniss thought it funny, the real Clove had always been trying to kill her. ‘Put on a show, for the Capitol.’ And now this illusion Clove was trying to help, protect her? Very strange in deed.

 “Everything’s just peachy, dear mother.” Katniss laughs, something flickering in her eyes. “Everything’s great, nothing wrong at all.” She’s smiling, it’s a crazy smile and a sad smile, a creepy combination of both.

 Mrs. Everdeen falters slightly, frowning at her daughter’s strange behaviour. She takes a discreet step backwards, pretending to think about something. “We could do with some milk and bread, maybe some eggs? Would you get some, please?”

 “Sure.” Katniss shrugs, grabbing her leather jacket from the chair she usually sits at by the kitchen table. “I’ll be back later, I guess.”

 Once her daughter had safely left the house, Mrs. Everdeen takes a moment to do a quick run through some breathing exercises that a doctor had suggested. At the same time, she attempts to gather her scattered thoughts, the rumours were getting to her head.

 “Aye, Mrs. Everdeen? You in here?” A deep but soft voice asks, an accent roughening the words. “You need anything?”

 “I suppose I do, Christopher. Something’s wrong with my daughter, something in her head.” Mrs. Everdeen sighs, facing the shaggy haired teen who ambled in.

 “Like me sister? You saying something hit her on the head, Mrs. Everdeen?” Christopher asks, frowning with confusion. “Take her to the hospital then, simple.”

 “No, Christopher. I think it’s because of Snow, and everything he did. Something- I don’t know what- happened to her, and now she’s like this.”

 “Started this morning, nothing you can do. Might be on her period or something. You never know, Missus. Take a break, I’ll watch your daughter.”

 “Thank you, Christopher. Those oranges you like are in the cupboard, the one beside the fridge.” Mrs. Everdeen says, pointing vaguely at the cupboard.

 “Aye, thanks. Clementine is a delicious orange, I do enjoy them.” Christopher says, already rooting around for them.

(0_0)

Katniss was aware of the fact she was being watched, she just ignored it and secured everything her mother wanted.

  _‘She surely thinks you crazy now, Katniss. Well done, she might ship you off to a mental hospital, where you belong.’_ Katniss grabs a bowl of stew, and finds an abounded stall, perching on top of it.

 A pair of dark green eyes, ablaze with fury, are watching her every move. Katniss doesn’t miss the way illusion Clove’s fists clench, as if in actual frustration. The illusion is wearing a blue flannel shirt, and grey jeans, a charcoal hoodie tied around the waist.

A pair of greyish blue eyes aren’t watching her, but their surroundings. The ghost of Hunter Fenton looks like she’s trying to make herself look smaller, like during the training for the games. The ghost is wearing black wash jeans, a stone-grey t-shirt and a black biker jacket.

 Ghost Hunter approaches Katniss, leaning against the stall. The ghost silently watches Katniss eating the stew, arms crosses in front of her chest. She scratches at the back of her neck, glaring at the illusion of Clove.

 “You shouldn’t be here on you own, Everdeen. It’s not exactly safe.” Hunter says, looking nervous.

 “No where is safe, not anymore. Anyways, I’m never on my own, someone’s always there. Even if they’re dead.” Katniss notes, sadly glancing down at the bowl of stew sitting in her lap.

 “Doesn’t make it any less dangerous, though. Makes stalker angry, and I have to avoid more knives. She never misses, except for you, she really cares for you. You don’t even know how much.” Hunter points out, smiling slightly.

 “Why? Why would she care for me? I have down nothing, for anyone to care or love or even like me!” Katniss whisper yells, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

 “Pretty sure stalker ain’t right in the head, Everdeen.” Hunter sighs, straightening up. “You should get home; your mom might be wondering where ya at.”

 “I need to buy a few things.” Katniss huffs, setting down the empty bowl and then crossing her arms protectively in front of her chest.

 “Well get off your ass and buy ‘em.” Hunter growls, dragging Katniss off the stall. “And maybe talk to stalker for once, she’s looking a little red.”

 Katniss looks at Clove, and sure enough; she’s red in the face. She dips her head once she notices Katniss staring.

 “Another time.” Katniss squeaks, and darts off, disappearing into a large crowd of buyers.

 Hunter turns towards Clove, and a powerful fist connects with her nose, snapping her head back. A second hit lands on her jaw, knocking her to the side. A swift uppercut follows, knocking her to her knees.

 “I should really kill you, Fenton. You’re just a pain in the ass, teasing me about Fire Girl. All. The. Time.” Clove growls, pulling out a gun. She jabs the barrel into Hunter’s chest, her finger hovering over the trigger.

 Hunter tenses, slowly raising her hands. “Clove, don’t do something you’ll regret, okay? As soon as we kill the mercenaries, I’m gone, no more dealing with me. I’ll be heading back to District Six, rather not do it in a cold metal box, again.”

 Clove laughs, and something in her eyes fade. “But, then I’ll never have to deal with you again; if I kill ya. And that’s good for me.” And with that, the crack of a gunshot echoes across the marketplace, a body slumping to the ground.

 Clove laughs and holsters the weapon. She slowly walks away, hands stuffed in her pockets. 

(o-0)

When Katniss gets home, she goes straight up into her bedroom, slamming the door closed and locking it.

  _‘What the hell happened?’_ She thinks, running a hand through her hair. She begins to pace nervously, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.

 When Katniss had ran, she heard a gunshot, and the screams. There was a stampede to get to safety, and Katniss had nearly been trampled. She barely got out unscathed.

  _‘Someone must have gotten hurt or killed. I hope it wasn’t Hunter or Clove.’_ Katniss thinks, sitting on the edge of her bed. She puts her arms around her knees, pulling them to her chest.

 After awhile she falls asleep, and her dreams are invaded with beautiful dark green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Good? Bad? Horrible? Should I just delete this story, delete my account, throw my writing things out a window? Disappear and return eight years later as a notorious serial killer? I would gladly do that, just for the record. I probably will to be honest.


	6. Plans Never Work Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am alive. I have a concussion though and can hardly see. That's definitely not good. Enjoy this that chapter that has been ready for months but I'm lazy.

Clove watches as two heavily armed mercenaries make their way down a destroyed street, dragging Hunter’s body between them.

 “Do you think the boss will be mad?” The smaller of the two asks, struggling to keep a grip on Hunter’s blood-soaked leather jacket.

 “No, the boss will be trilled with us! It’s not like we’re only coming back with one of the targets, and the damn kid is dead instead of alive! The boss will give us a promotion!” The larger mercenary snarks, flicking shorty in the face. “We’re dead, doofus.”

 The young mercenary sniffles dramatically, freeing one hand to pretend to wipe away a non-existent tear. “Don’t be so mean, Bullet.”

 ‘Bullet…” The smirk that had been curling Clove’s lips briefly disappears, as she can now recognise the older mercenary. In the Career Academy there was only one other teenager who could match Clove in a fight. A homeless kid nicknamed Bullet because of how fast they were.

 Clove hadn’t seen Bullet for a long time, a few months before the Games started Bullet had been in a horrific accident that nearly claimed their life. Once they had recovered just enough, they were gone. Slaughtered a guard to get out undetected.

 ‘This will make it even more fun.’ Clove thinks, a sadistic smirk slowly curling her lips once more. She unzips her backpack, retrieving a grenade. She pulls the pin, brings her arm back, before chucking it towards the short mercenary.

 As the grenade detonates, the blinding flash illuminates what is happening as the young mercenary is thrown into a wall due to the powerful blast. The lifeless body falls to the ground, blood painting the brinks a dark red. Bullet is hurled backwards, hitting the ground hard.

 Bullet stands up unsteadily, blood dripping from their face. They glance over to the now dead mercenary, spitting the blood from their mouth. They glare at the ground, and Clove can just about see their shoulders visibly shaking. They are silent for a long time, completely ignoring everything around them.

 Silently, Clove removes the backpack from her shoulders, carefully setting it down on the dusty concrete. Flicking her eyes over to the motionless Bullet, she makes sure they haven’t moved. Carefully, she rolls up her sleeves, occasionally glancing at Bullet.

 “Why?” A quiet voice asks, Clove looks up to see Bullet glaring at her, fury churning in the depths of eyes the colour of ink, a slashing scar barely missing the mercenary’s right eye, Clove remembers that scar. She’s the one who gave it to Bullet. “You didn’t have to kill the kid, you didn’t have to murder anyone. So, why did you do it?”

 Clove takes a moment before answering, trying not to provoke Bullet unnecessarily. “Because, I had no choice. Sometimes good people have to die to protect the innocent. You of all people should understand.” Clove points out, subtly unsheathing a small throwing knife from her belt.

 “I’m gonna enjoy killing you this time.” Bullet growls, pulling a throwing axe from their belt and flinging it at Clove, just as she lets go of the knife.

 The axe blade slams into Clove’s right shoulder, lifting her off her feet and sending her back a few metres. She groans slightly as she rips the axe free, letting the blood flow freely down her arm. “What makes you think that you will be able to kill me?” Clove laughs, checking her arm for mobility.

 “This time there will be no trainers to stop me.” Bullet snarls, a cruel smirk curling their lips. They slip into a fighting stance, unhindered by the knife burrowed in their own shoulder. “Bring it on.”

 Clove sighs, letting her shoulders drop in feigned exhaustion. “Fine then.” She darts forward, running at full speed towards the waiting Bullet. Angling her body at the last possible second, Clove’s left shoulder slams into Bullet’s gut with the force of a freight train. Her momentum sends her tumbling, luckily Bullet is there to cushion the blow.

 Both of her shoulders now throbbing Clove raises herself up, blinking away a few stray stars. Her vision clears just in time to see a pissed off Bullet and a brutal backhand across the face, knocking her down.

 As her vision fades into darkness, Clove can just see faint movement out of the corner of her vision, the sound of wet coughing assaulting her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada, I'm gonna update again soon. Stay tuned.


	7. It Has Begun [Part One]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, homos. Gayer than ever.
> 
> Sorry this is a shortish update, only 986 words. Maybe if you hang around, leave a comment... Well you might just get two more chapters by as late as tomorrow. Jus' sayin'

Loud footsteps. Heading towards her. A dragging sound, not close, but not too far away. A familiar voice, it sounds so distant. As if the voice is echoing down a tunnel. The footsteps stop, and it the voice grows more distant. There’s a clicking sound, nearly like the hammer of a gun being pulled back. It’s silent for five seconds, before a deafening gunshot fills the air. The sound of rushed footsteps, rapidly moving away from her. The oddly satisfying sound of knuckles hitting flesh. It always soothes her, maybe because she grew up listening to that sound.

 She can hear clearer now, maybe soon she will be able to open her eyes.

 Shouting. Someone’s shouting. Sounds like an argument. The voices are getting louder, so much louder. Clearer too. She can pick out words now. ‘Surprise attack. Diggs didn’t stand a chance. I took her down. She tried to kill the other one. I say I finished the job for her. Still alive.’

 Everything comes crashing back. Katniss. The mercenaries. Hunter. Bullet. The fight. Bullet knocked her out. Bullet beat her. How is she still alive? Bullet would never let her survive. Especially not now. Is there something she’s missing?

 There are footsteps coming towards her again, one is the same as before, minus the dragging sound. The second are new, they are heavy, slow, a wheeze is audible with each breath. Perhaps someone who has been injured?

 She’ll find out soon, she’s fighting to open her eyes. She can see shadows, lights flickering as something falls in front of it.

 Just a tiny bit more.

 A tiny bit-

 There.

 She can see the figures standing over her, a flashlight pointed at the ground. They continue muttering between themselves, paying no regard to her. Perfect. She can use that to her advantage.

 Allowing her head to loll, just a bit, she can see a bloodied knife, lying near her thigh. Her fingers are just millimetres from the handle. If she just moved her hand-

 No.

 Patience is key, move too fast and it could all go wrong. She has to bid her time, wait for the perfect moment to strike. She can do it, she’s done it before.

 Last time she was messy, it cost her. She cannot afford to let that disaster happen again. Too much is now at stake.

 She flicks her eyes to observe the figures, tuning into the conversation.

 “You did good, soldier. Now, finish the job and we can all go home.” The larger figure- she mentally names him Joe- states, voice nearly cracking on the word home. “Pull the trigger, finish it.” Joe hisses, pushing a handgun into the hand of the young mercenary- Bullet.

 Bullet takes a small step forward, lightly gripping the weapon. “It’ll all be over?” Bullet asks, and she’s transported back to a dark cold night, a storm raging on around her, a shattered window and glint of artificial light hitting the shiny blade of a knife.

 “Yes, it will all be over. You can do it, son.” Joe encourages, gently squeezing Bullet’s shoulder. “Pull the trigger and we can finally go home.”

 “Home.” Bullet whispers, and again she is transported back to a more peaceful time. “I haven’t had a home in a long time.”

 “You will now, son.” Joe whispers, taking a slow step back.

 She waits until she hears the hammer being pulled back before she springs into action. Rolling onto her side, she pushes herself up with one hand while the other grabs the knife. Moving quickly, she slashes open the back of Bullet’s knee, forcing them down. She grabs their arm, wrenching it away from herself as they fire off a shot. Grimacing, she easily breaks their arm, the gun dropping to the ground.

 ‘I’m sorry.’ She thinks, as she sinks the knife into the chest of the mercenary who was once her friend. Reaching for the fallen gun, she doesn’t watch them fall back.

 Clove’s sights now set on ‘Joe’, she rises to her feet. She levels the gun at him as he hastily backs away, hands in the way. With her lips pulled back in a snarl, she advances on the man. He opens his mouth, most likely to pathetically plea for his life before she squeezes the trigger, continuing to fire into his torso until the gun clicks empty.

 A sadistic smirk twists her lips as she tosses the empty gun to the side. She rolls her shoulders, glaring at the looming warehouse. Spinning on her heel, she strides over to her backpack, pulling a knife vest free.

 She unties the hoodie that somehow remained around her waist, dropping it on the bag. She pulls the vest on over her flannel, fiddling with it until it sits comfortably. A curse falls from her lips as she spots a noticeable tear in her jeans, must have been from the shot that barely missed her.

Glancing at Bullet, she adjusts the sleeves of her flannel. There are things that must be done before she could go in search of Katniss. Things that may involve a little torture.

 Walking towards Bullet, she pulls a small knife free. Chuckling, she tosses it from hand to hand, her fingers itching to draw blood.

 “How many mercenaries are in the warehouse? Where are they positioned?” Clove asks, pressing the blade to Bullet’s throat, her left hand fisted in the collar of their protective jacket. “Answer me now.”

 Bullet stubbornly remains silent, even as Clove presses harder and harder on the blade, drawing blood. Clove pulls the blade away, tossing it into her left hand, with her right she lashes out, hitting Bullet on the jaw.

 “Not in a talkative mood, are you?” Clove asks, shaking out her hand. “That’s alright. Just means I get to have some fun.” She smirks as Bullet clenches their jaw, the slightest hint of fear in their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on the second last/last chapter right now. It's been a long ride to say the least.


	8. It Has Begun [Part Two]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Clove wipes the blood off her hands with an old cloth, it had taken some brutal punishments to get Bullet to talk. It was doubtful Bullet would survive from the blood loss. If they did, they’d most likely be blind in their right eye.

 “All that pain could have been easily avoided,” Clove sighed, wiping some blood off her cheek. “All you had to do was talk.”

 “I ain’t a… traitor… not… like you.” Bullet forced out, along with some blood. She didn’t miss the strain on their voice.

 “Don’t bother trying to fool yourself, you are a traitor.” Clove spits, leaning down. “Remember Davidson? The guard you murdered in cold blood? Remember her?” She nearly taunts, waving a knife coated in blood in their face.

 On the outside, she smiles at the way Bullet flinches fearfully at the sight of the knife, covered in their own blood, but on the inside, she feels anger towards herself for doing this to Bullet. For causing this pain. This fear.

 Bullet stays quiet this time, not able to answer. It’s clear that the pain is becoming too much to bear. Even for someone like Bullet. Someone who has felt far too much fear and pain.

 Feeling pity and slight mercy, Clove punches Bullet, hard enough to knock them out.

 She strides over to her back pack, pulling free a bundle of tactical clothing. Her clothes are covered in more blood than not and are not exactly ideal for storming a warehouse filled with mercenaries.

Clove quickly unzips her knife vest and puts it to one side, knowing that she will put in back on. She doesn’t bother unbuttoning the flannel, she simply tears it off. Blood has soaked through it, it was already ruined. The white t-shirt she had been wearing underneath was stained too, she sighed as she pulled it over her head. She kicked off her shoes, already struggling out of her jeans.

 Hurriedly, she shook out the tactical clothing. The trousers were the first to go on, Clove hopping around like an idiot to get them on. She threw on a plain t-shirt, forcing herself to slow down as she managed to get her arm tangled. Once the t-shirt was safely on, Clove puts on her combat boots, as she laces them up, she half tucks in the trousers. Carefully, she pulls on the knife vest, zipping it up about three quarters of the way.

 She strides over to the mercenary she first killed, hoping to secure some more weapons. She swallows the bile rising in the back of her throat she stands over the body. She carefully removes all of the weapons, laying them out on the ground.

 The blast from the grenade caught the mercenary on the left side of his face. His left eye was gone, his eye socket utterly shattered. Flesh and muscle were stripped from the entire left side of his face. The shrapnel from the grenade tore strips into his neck, chest and right side of his face. A medium sized piece of shrapnel was lodged in his right eye. His nose was in small pieces.

 Being forcibly thrown into the wall fractured his skull, and Clove would bet that several small fragments entered his brain. It would have killed him instantly if the shrapnel hadn’t already. He would have been dead seconds after the grenade went off.

 Once all the weapons had been removed from the body, Clove dragged it until it was flat on it’s back. After some struggling, she managed to turn the body on its stomach, face pushed into the ground. Her stomach loosened now that she doesn’t have to see the damage.

 Looking down, she picks up an AK-12. Double checking it’s fully loaded she slings the strap over her shoulder and lets it settle against her chest. A gun holster is strapped tight against her thigh, a Colt 45. sitting comfortably in it.

 Every spare magazine goes into her many pockets, with a tiny knife clipping onto her belt, hidden underneath the vest and t-shirt.

 Fully armed, she runs to the warehouse. Her boots kick up clouds of dust as she zig-zags her way across, skilfully avoiding any vantage points of guards. Keeping low, she skirts along the wall, heading towards the back.

 A fire exit lightly guarded. If she can just get to the top, break through a sheltered window, she’ll have full advantage in any potential fight. Several guards stand in her way, not enough to truly prove a struggle.

 Jumping slightly, she blindly grabs onto the railing of the fire escape. Carefully lifting herself up, she takes in any possible threats, freeing a knife from her vest.

 One guard. Back to her. Close enough the she could go for the knee. Has a machine gun, no sidearm, no vest. Fairly easy kill.

 Smirking, she throws the knife into the guard’s knee, as they fall another knife is burying itself in their neck. No sound, not much blood.

 Clambering over the railing doesn’t take too long, and she quickly retrieves her knives, returning them to their rightful places.

 Leaning over the railing, she spots her next targets. Two guards, standing on either end. Machine guns, sidearms, vests. Will take some planning.

 Moving quickly, she climbs onto the railing and hoists herself up. She skips the level, going to the next. She vaults over the railing, landing softly behind a guard.

 She got them in a headlock and slit their throat, holding a hand over their mouth to minimise sound.

 “Now for the fun part.” She mutters, once again climbing over the railing. Grimacing she swings herself down, hitting one of the guards with a solid double kick to the chest.

 The guard goes flying back, slamming into the other guard and forcing them into the railing. The second guard spins around, freeing their handgun.

 Clove grabs their wrist and buries a knife into their throat. They weakly grasp at the knife as she rips it free, tearing their throat open in the process. The knife is plunged into the first guard’s chest as the second collapses.

 Smirking, she climbs up to the last level. There are three guards, all well-armed. She couldn’t be bothered to plan this one. Time to wing it.

 She vaults over the railing, throwing herself onto two of the guards. They all go down in a tangle of limbs as she goes for the only standing guard.

 “Come on, little girl.” The guard growls, slipping into a fighting stance. “I’ll eat you for dinner. Maybe there will be some meat on your bones.

“I’m not on the menu tonight, sorry to disappoint.” Clove mutters, raising her hands as she slips into her own defensive stance.

 The guard lunges forward, throwing a punch for her head. She ducks, nailing him in the ribs as she steps up behind him.

 Snarling, the man attacks again. He manages to get a hit to her jaw before he knees her in the stomach, knocking her down. A solid kick to the stomach sends her flying.

 Clove nearly groans, jumping to her feet. She darts forward, plants one foot on the railing and uses it to push herself to the wall where she’s high enough to punch the man in the temple. She lands easily, and quickly spins, kicking him in the stomach.

 He stumbles back, the railing pressing into his lower back. Clove picks herself up and sighs, she runs forward and barely manages to jump in time. Her boots connect with his chest in a successful dropkick, the guard going over the railing and falling to his doom.

 Clove manages to land on the other two guards, but her landing jerks one back to consciousness. The other still knocked out.

 The now conscious guard reacts fast, elbowing Clove in the throat. They go for their machine gun that is lying by the wall but is thwarted by a pissed off Clove driving a knife into the side of their vest and just barely piercing the skin.

 Now with the upper hand, Clove grabs the machine gun and throws it away. The guard flips over, ripping the knife free. They lunge for Clove and get socked in the jaw.  Clove easily pins them down and calmly places their own handgun under their jaw, a click letting them know that the gun is cocked.

 “I won’t hesitate.” Clove warns, grinning as the guard drops the knife and put their hands in Clove’s line of vision. She picks up her knife and presses it to their throat. “Tell me your name kid.”

 At the guard’s silence, she presses the knife further into their flesh. A thin line of blood bubbles up around the blade, the guard now fighting the urge to struggle against her.

 “Tell me.” She growls, putting more pressure against the blade. She watches as the guard nods minutely, and she pulls the knife away.

 “Mason,” the guard gasps, clutching their throat. “My name is Mason.”

 “Wasn’t so hard now was it?” Clove laughs, standing up with the gun still trained on Mason. She glances at the boarded window, thinking of a plan. “Right, get up kid.” She orders, daring them to try something.

 Mason slowly stands, one hand covering their neck wound. “What are you going to do with me?” They ask, glancing at their still unconscious companion.

 Clove steps towards them, gun at her side. “This,” she grabs the back of their vest and throws them into the window. The boards splinter and the glass breaks, cutting Mason’s arms open.

 “Whoops,” Clove whispers, pulling Mason back and letting them fall. “Didn’t know there was glass there.”

 Using the gun, Clove knocks away any remaining glass before carefully climbing through. She nods approvingly at the sight of stacked crates filling the warehouse, making her job much easier and more fun.

 Quietly, she makes her way to the edge of the crates and drops to her stomach. She peers down, smirking at the sight of completely unaware mercenaries just waiting around. This would be easy, but help is always handy.

 ‘Hostages would be fun.’ She thinks, moving quietly back to the window. Outside, Mason’s partner has regained consciousness and was cursing quietly over the state of Mason’s bloodied arms. It is messy.

 Clove climbs through the window, training the gun on the two mercenaries. “Ah a, don’t try anything.” She warns, moving closer. “The two of you are going to help me whether you like it not. Get up Mason.”

 Mason slowly stands, hands out by their side. They move closer as Clove jerks her head, careful to keep their movements small and slow.

 “Put your wrists together, in front of yourself.” Clove orders, pulling zip ties from one of her pockets. She smirks as they do as instructed. “Move and I shoot.” She threatens, darting forward and tightening a zip tie around their wrists. “Alright, it’s your buddy’s turn.”

 The mercenary allows Clove to repeat the process, unmoving as Clove loops and tightens to zip ties, tugging to make sure their secure.

 “You aren’t going to like this part.” She tells them, seizing Mason by the collar. The gun trained on their partner, she drags them to the window and shoves them through. They land on the broken boards and glass, gaining several new injuries.

 “The fuck, man.” Mason groans miserably, cursing their luck. “Does your plan need me to be thrown through a window, twice, for it to work?”

 “Nah, that was just a warning for your buddy.” Clove replies, tossing a charming smile at the glaring mercenary. “Do anything I don’t like, Mason gets hurt. Simple.” She shrugs, grabbing Mason’s machine gun.

 Mason’s partner easily climbs through the window, dropping into a crouch beside Mason to help them sit up.

 She jumps through the window, and crouches down in front of them, ignoring the dirty glare Mason’s partner is throwing her way. “You two are my distractions, pretend to be hostages, draw them out and then get the fuck out of here. Whether or not you kill anyone is up to you. Got it?” She asks, not caring for an answer. “Stay low, try not to get hit. If you die, I am not going to save you. Already have one person to save, don’t need another.”

 Clove glances back to where she knows the other mercenaries are milling around. Breathing deeply, she turns back to her hostages, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Mason’s partner is hitting them repeatedly over the head, hard.

 “Are you quite down yet?” Clove asks sarcastically, wondering if she should pull them apart to save Mason from brain damage. She gets a sharp glare in return, until the mercenary hits Mason one last time.

 A low growl is building in the back of Clove’s throat as she turns, half jogging back over to the edge of the crates. She drops onto her stomach, bracing the machine gun against her shoulder. Picking out her first targets she lines up the first shot.

 “This is for you, Katniss.” She mutters, squeezing the trigger. The mercenary goes down with a burst of blood, shocking the others.

They scurry for cover as she picks them off, none of them managing to fire a shot. Some don’t stay down, desperately dragging themselves to cover, some being dragged. She enjoys picking those off, but those her best not to draw out their inevitable death, she does have some tattered remains of a heart.

 A mercenary appears from behind several crates, clutching a heavy-duty sniper rifle. They blindly fire at her, trying to force her into taking cover so that the mercenaries have a chance to regroup. One shot gets dangerously close to hitting her, she barely manages to roll away in time.

 “Son of a bitch.” Clove hisses, reloading her gun. She shifts into a crouch, creeping back to the edge of the crates. “I’ll teach you all a lesson.” She growls, before jumping up, unleashing a hail of bullets down at the mercenaries.

 The sniper goes down with a scream of agony, blood gushing from their hand and abdomen. Another bullet rips through their shoulder, and the sniper passes out from the sheer pain alone.

 Most of the mercenaries had been smart enough not to leave their covers, but those who did were mowed down, as were the injured mercenaries they’d been attempting to save. Nearly all had been kill-shots, at least a dozen mercenaries lying dead amongst weapons and blood.

 “Intruder! You are outnumbered and outgunned! Surrender now and we will spare you!” A mercenary shouts, attempting to use an intimidating tone but failing miserably.

 “Sorry to disappoint you but that isn’t happening anytime soon!” Clove yells at them, sitting just out of their sights. “You know why? Because I have two hostages and if you want them back alive you guys will surrender instead.”

 Clove hears them muttering, catching wisps of the conversation. They’re looking for their boss, the same man Clove had shot dead.

 “If you show us your hostages we may be able to come to a deal.” The same mercenary orders, obviously trying to control the situation. Clove already knows it’s a lie, as soon as she shows Mason and their friend they will most likely be killed.

 Not having much of a choice, Clove stalks over to her hostages. She strikes Mason across the face with the butt of the gun, before hauling the disorientated mercenary upright.

 “You better trust me on this.” Clove whispers to them, dragging them towards the edge of the crates, where the mercenaries are waiting. Spread out and poised to kill.

 “Where’s the other one?!” The commanding mercenary yells, upon seeing only one. He turns to his comrades, quickly signalling for them to take aim, not wanting to lose his chance.

 “Over there.” Clove deadpans, pointing back at her other hostage. “Obviously, where else would they be?”

 The mercenary in charge barks out orders to his people, trying to get them to spread out more and attempt to take Clove by surprise. Few listen to him, most rather remain hidden amongst the crates.

 Mason is slowly regaining their senses, their shoulders gradually tensing as they take in the weapons aimed at them. They shove backwards, narrowly avoiding being hit by a bullet that lodges into the ceiling as bullets fly towards them.

 Clove stumbles back, allowing Mason enough space to land a punch on her jaw and go for one of her knives. They grab a large one, more like a machete then a throwing knife.

 Hanging the knife on their belt they sprint away, heading to the left edge. They drop down at the last minute, disappearing over the edge and hitting the wall. The fall is controlled, and they easily stop themselves with a roll, still one large crate from the ground.

 Several mercenaries are standing in front of them, moving to a better vantage spot to get the drop on Clove. To bad that if Mason has anything to do with it, it won’t be happening.

 ‘Jamie is going to murder me.’ Mason thinks, before taking a running jump off the crate. They crash into a mercenary, the knife in their hand slashing her throat open in seconds. She topples to the ground, blood pooling beside her.

 A mercenary is turning on them, gun swinging up. Mason ducks to avoid a nasty blow from the weapon, stabbing the mercenary in the stomach and ripping the knife up into their chest. They leave the knife in the body, choosing to concentrate on the two remaining mercenaries.

 “Mason, what the hell has gotten into you?” The smaller mercenary asks, shifting on her feet nervously. Her trigger finger twitches anxiously over the trigger, itching for a chance to shoot. To defend herself. “This isn’t like you man.”

 The taller mercenary is hesitantly lowering her gun, one hand drifting to rest on a wicked sharp knife. Her eyes drift to the two fallen mercenaries behind Mason, taking in the pools of blood. The knife is still buried in the slowly dying mercenary’s chest, blood lazily bubbling up around the blade.

 Her eyes cut to Mason, eyes scanning them. She takes in their dirtied clothes, messy hair, the wounds on their arms that are still bleeding sluggishly, and the bruise already forming across their cheek. A long, deep cut is in the middle of the painful looking bruise. The red of blood vivid against the dark blue of their face.

 “You need to leave, right now. It’s too dangerous for you here. Leave before you are killed.” Mason warns, glaring at the mercenary towering above them.

 The two mercenaries don’t budge, choosing to instead eye them suspiciously. They don’t seem to understand the very real danger they are in.

 “Fine, have it your way then.” Mason growls lowly, lunging forward like a snake.

 The taller mercenary is closer, as she had been standing protectively in front of the short one. Mason gets to her first, landing a solid punch to her abdomen. She doubles over, a pain grunt escaping her. Mason grabs the back of her neck, kneeing her in the face. They shove her back into the crates as they free the knife from her belt.

 Shorter mercenary plows into Mason, trying in vain to bring them down. Mason lets the knife fall, choosing to seize her shoulders and kick her legs out from under her. She lands flat on her back, a cry of pain ripping from her throat.

 Mason steps away from her, retrieving the knife as they go. “I warned you. I warned you and you didn’t listen. And now you’re gonna die.” The tip of the blade slashes through her right eye, and with a simple thrust, the blade is buried in her brain.

 “Clean up on aisle five please, clean up on aisle five.” Mason mutters, looking down at their blood splattered clothes. “Oof, that’s gonna stain.”

 The barely conscious mercenary behind Mason, stands up. Blood is leaking from a gash on her temple, and blood drips from her nose. “You traitor,” she spits, “how could we trust you?”

 “I can’t read minds so why don’t you tell me.” Mason snarks, wiping off some blood from their neck. “Not your smartest move by a long shot, now was it? Wasn’t your stupidest, because you let Clove and Hunter live long enough to kill a good half of us.”

 “Can you just put a bullet in your brain, make the world a better place?”

 Before Mason can answer, several gunshots ring out. Three bullets hit the mercenary in her torso, and she drops slowly. Landing on her back.

 “Thanks Clove!” Mason yells, yanking their knife out of the first mercenary’s chest. Flipping the knife, they hurriedly cut through the zip tie, freeing themselves.

 “No problem, crazy dude!” Clove answers, more gunfire ringing out across the warehouse. Some mercenaries are still fighting back, unwilling to give up. Those with a brain have given up, choosing to flee for their lives.

 Clove jumps from crate to crate, throwing the useless gun down at a large group of mercenaries. She jumps down after it, landing easily in the middle of the group.

 The mercenary closest gets a knife to the gut, and Clove uses him as a human shield as she unleashes a hail of bullets using his gun. Several mercenaries scramble back the way they came, and Clove can only watch in shock as a heavy crate falls, turning them into pancakes. The remaining mercenaries turn tail and run, not wanting to fight.

 Mason and their partner –Jamie appear from around the corner, both holding AK-47s. They both smirk at the trapped mercenaries, before opening fire on them. Bullets tear holes through brains, hearts and lungs, killing every mercenary instantly.

 Jamie throws her gun down, seizes Mason by the collar and drags the injured mercenary away from the gruesome scene that Clove stands in the middle of.

 “Hey! Come on! It was just getting fun!” Mason complains loudly, before falling silent as Jamie shoots a death glare at them. “Shutting up now.” They mutter, dropping Jamie’s gaze.

 “When we get out of here you can kill as many people as you want. Alright? You just going have to stay a live for that. Deal?” Jamie asks, pulling Mason in for a hug. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

 The two mercenaries set off in a dead run, darting past crates and occasionally climbing over them. Any fleeing mercenaries they come across are easily dispatched of. Mason tending to tackle them and snap their necks. Jamie prefers to introduce them face first to the crates.

 Escaping the warehouse, they spot rapidly approaching dust clouds. More reinforcements. A grey pick up truck is partially hidden behind a crumbling wall. All windows still intact. The perfect getaway vehicle.

 Somehow, the keys to the truck are still in the ignition. It does make it easier to get the vehicle started. Some rubble had fallen in the path of the truck, but after some shoving and cursing curtesy of Mason, it was quickly dealt with.

 “Mason, check if Bullet is still alive.” Jamie orders, sorting through some bags that had been thrown in the back. “Maybe we can save one person.”

 “Kay.” Mason mutters, jogging lightly to an unmoving Bullet. They carefully kneel beside the body, cold eyes taking in the damage that Clove had caused. Deep cuts scatter their torso, bruises forming around them. Long, thin cuts decorate Bullet’s arms, still bleeding sluggishly. Their right eye is a mangled mess, a jagged cut ripping down the centre of it.

 Somehow, Bullet is still breathing. If just barely. A weak pulse beats underneath Mason’s careful fingers, it increases just a bit as the tortured mercenary regains consciousness. They are drowsy from pain, and their face and neck are decorated with dark bruises.

 Clove had been brutal in her interrogation.

 “Bullet, buddy. We’re gonna get you to a hospital okay? Just stay awake for us. That’s all you have to do. Just stay awake, please.” Mason nearly begs, keeping their voice low. “You’re gonna be okay.” They promise, fighting to keep their voice from cracking.

 “Let’s get out of here Mason! C’mon!” Jamie yells, jogging over to Mason and Bullet. She glances over Bullet, knowing they have to act fast, or it will be too late. “Right, let’s get you into the truck.”

 Between both of them, they manage to carry Bullet over to the pick-up. After some brainstorming, they manage to get Bullet safely into the bed of the truck, Jamie climbing in with them to keep them awake.

 Mason glances around, looking at the few bodies that still litter the ground. Blood and dirt are mixed on the ground, shrapnel and soot decorating the ground where the grenade had detonated.

 They grimace, before climbing into the pick-up truck. They direct the truck down a worn trail that goes through the woods and will bring them to a makeshift hospital. Mason can only hope they’ll make it in time.

 Five armoured trucks roll to a stop in the middle of the street, headlights just missing the retreating pick-up truck’s tail light. A tall man gets out of the middle truck, his black clothes blending in well with the darkness. He clicks on a flashlight, the bright beam illuminating the carnage.

 More mercenaries spill out of the trucks, the flashlights mounted on their weapons lighting up the warehouse. They take up defensive stances, searching for any threats.

 “Spread out, they said Fenton was shot. Find her. Make sure she’s dead.” The man orders, bracing his hands on his hips. “Vasquez, Danvers. Sweep the warehouse. Find Fuhrman. Put a bullet through her brain. Make it quick.”

 Five mercenaries break off to begin searching the buildings, flashlights creating looming shadows. They move silently, methodically checking every possible hiding place.

 Vasquez and Danvers share a brief look, communicating some kind of plan in seconds. Moments later they are leading the mercenaries towards the warehouse, flashlights off for the time being. They stop in front of the rolling door, motioning for two burly mercenaries to lift it up. Weapons hot, they enter, splitting in two and moving quickly through the crates.

 The lights are off, making it difficult to see their target. Bodies litter the ground, some still bleeding warm blood. They search the warehouse thoroughly, but there is no sign of the target.

 Suddenly, the lights all turn on. Temporarily blinding the mercenaries. As their eyes attempt to adapt to the stark difference, the rolling door slams shut, shaking the ground.

 Four grenades are thrown into the midst of Vasquez’s group, and detonate seconds later. Two thirds of the group are thrown into the crates, the other third scrambling for cover. More grenades follow, disorientating the survivors long enough for Clove to slip up behind them undetected.

   “You should have stayed home tonight.” She snarls, throwing two knives in quick succession. Darting forward, she wraps a length of rope around a startled mercenary’s throat, flipping the mercenary over her back is an easy feat.

 A quickly recovered mercenary rushes her, managing only one punch to the face before a throat jab floors them. Clove quickly wraps the other end of the rope around the mercenary’s throat.

 One mercenary shoots at Clove, the shot goes wide and the bullet embeds itself harmless into a crate. They fire off another shot before a throwing knife sinks into their eye. They drop their gun, and Clove grabs it and fires a round into the remaining mercenaries knee cap, swiftly punching a hole in their face.

 Jumping to her feet, she double taps both tied together mercenaries in the heart. She quickly retrieves her knives, reloads her newly acquired gun, and sets off to trigger the traps she had rigged.

 She sneaks up behind the remaining group, who are methodically checking around each crate. She presses her back to a crate as she pulls a small detonator out of her pocket. Taking a deep breath and screwing her eyes shut, she flicks the switch.

 Immediately the warehouse is plunged back into darkness as two controlled explosions take out the lights from the other side of the warehouse. Several more explosions rock the warehouse, the crates filled with explosives going up in balls of fire.

 The team successfully distracted, Clove runs towards a crate directly behind them. She jumps at it, using her arms to clear the edge and propel herself into a roll. She’s already leaping onto a higher up crate by the time the team regather themselves.

 “Into pairs, now. Get her.” Danvers orders, already moving away from the group. A shorter, muscular mercenary chases after her, eyes continuously sweeping the area.

 Clove nearly laughs as she clears a jump over the heads of Danvers and her partner. They’re making this far too easy. Most of the pairs are heading directly into the traps. It’s nearly too easy in fact.

 She decides to follow two pairs who are heading towards a practically brutal trap. With an incredibly large jump that no one sane would attempt to clear, Clove mentally thanks Bullet for teaching her some parkour. Barely managing to clear it, she falls in a controlled manner into a forward shoulder roll. She rolls off the edge, dropping into a crouch on a lower crate.

 “Stay sharp, the target could be anywhere.” One of the mercenaries warns, taking the lead. He doesn’t notice the tripwire two feet in front of him, the dark making it invisible.

 Clove jumps off the crate, sneaking towards the mercenaries. She wants to see her work in action. A crate a few feet behind them provides the perfect cover to observe them without being spotted or caught in the trap herself.

 The leading mercenary unknowingly hits the tripwire, triggering the countdown for what is to come. He continues to move before pausing in the midst of the trap, two of his comrades directly behind him.

 “Do any of you hear that?” He asks, twisting his torso to glance at the others. “Like a ticking or something?”

 “I don’t hear anything, dude. You’re just paranoid.” The mercenary who is clear of the trap speaks up, making his way closer.

 “No, no, he’s right. I can hear some’hing.” One of the other mercenaries pipes up, looking around. She tries to locate the noise, keeping her gun pointed at the ground. “It’s getting faster, can you hear it?”

 ‘See you in hell.’ Clove thinks, smirking as the ticking turns into a nonstop noise until it suddenly stops.

 Just as the leading mercenary opens his mouth, a tiny boom fills the air. Makeshift darts fly out from every direction. Two tag the leading man in the throat, five more buried into his torso. One tags the mercenary who had remained silent in the temple, several more shredding through their stomach. The remaining mercenary caught in the fray gets several handfuls of darts tearing through her lungs and heart, while the last mercenary gets hit in the knee, knocking him down.

 As the injured mercenary opens his mouth to let out a spew of curses, Clove steps out from her hiding spot. With a simple flick of her wrist, a small knife is buried in the back of his neck. He keels over slowly, landing flat on his face.

 “I think it’s time for some more fun now.” Clove mutters, taking off in a sprint. She vaults over several crates, skilfully avoiding any unnecessary altercations. If any of the mercenaries see her they would only foolishly think it was a trick of the shadows.

 Several minutes later, she was at her next destination. One mercenary had spotted her, and instead of calling out for the others, he had given chase. A throwing star to the eye dispatched of him easily.

 Two mercenaries are standing in front of the few crates Clove resides behind, as one struggles with his gun, the other radios in with the others.

 “Does anyone have any eyes on Fuhrman?” The mercenary asks, one hand resting on her knife. Her question is met by a short burst of static, that slowly turns into the sound of uneven breathing.

 “No, but she ambushed us.” A mercenary pants, voice barely audible through the radio. “Vasquez and the group are all dead. Grenades, and Fuhrman killed anyone who survived.”

 Clove quietly picks up a discarded crowbar, gripping the weapon lightly. She slips through the crates, her footsteps light. The mercenary leaning against some crates and struggling with his gun is closet, and she silently moves into a better position to attack.

 “Taylor is dead, he must have seen her.” Another mercenary tells them, over the radio. “Throwing star to the eye, didn’t stand a chance.”

 “Where did you find him?” The mercenary asks, unholstering her handgun.

 “About five crates from you, I’m heading your way now. Keep your eyes high, she likes killing from a height.”

 “Copy that.” The mercenary replies, reholstering her handgun and instead bringing up her machine gun. She aims her gun upwards, her partner slowly following her lead.

 “Too easy.” Clove whispers, lunging forward and swiping the crowbar to the left. It slams into the mercenary’s ribs, a shocked scream falling from his lips as he lands heavily on his knees. She brings it back up and slams her full weight down onto his shoulders.

 His partner spins around, shooting wildly at Clove. The side of the crowbar slams into her temple, knocking her down and sending her skidding. She falls onto her back, one arm outstretched, eyes unfocused.

 Clove closes the short distance in a few strides, coming to a stop by the mercenary’s torso. She looks down at the slowly dying girl, a small part of her wondering if this was what it was like for Katniss and Thresh.

 She drops into a crouch, letting the crowbar rest against her shoulder. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Clove asks, looking at the dented temple caused by her own hand. “There’s this immense pain, but you can’t do a single thing about it. Can’t move, can’t talk. Can’t beg them to stop as they rebuild your brain and you can feel every excruciating second of it. You can only hope that you die.” Clove mutters, shifting the crowbar so it rests across her thighs.

 It was worth it, of course. My plan worked. Draw out Thresh, have him kill me. It would have sent Cato into a rampage and he would go after Thresh, and they’d fight to the death. I had hoped that Thresh would have killed Cato, but the mutts came at the wrong time. Five more seconds, five more seconds and Cato would have died. If it came to it, I knew Lover Boy would foolishly try to sacrifice himself for Katniss. Try to save her. As if she needed saving.” Clove laughs, broken pieces of memories filtering through her eyes.

 A distressed whimper fell from the mercenary’s lips, and the weak flex of her fingers on Clove’s arm told her all she needed to know. This woman was begging for mercy, to be killed. Clove can’t even attempt to blame her.

 “Do you deserve mercy? Who knows how many people you killed. Maybe you tortured them, drew out their deaths as long as you could. Maybe you do deserve a painful, drawn out death.” Clove muses, freeing the handgun from the mercenary’s holster. “Who am I to judge though?” She asks, cocking the gun.

 “Hands on your head, Fuhrman. It’s over.” A voice brimming with anger spits, as a mercenary with long blonde hair steps out from the shadows. Gun trained at Clove’s head. “Give up now, and you might live long enough to say goodbye to your girlfriend.”

 Clove doesn’t move from her crouched position, keeping the loaded handgun hidden from view. “You see, blondie. That’s where you’re wrong. It isn’t over.” Clove turns her head, shooting a smirk at the blonde. “It’s just beginning.”

 Blondie doesn’t see it coming as Clove twists round, firing two rounds into her kneecaps. She yells as she falls, gun dropping in shock. She struggles with her belt, dragging a knife free. Aiming quickly, she flings it at Clove, the blade slicing across her bicep.

 “That isn’t going to help you, sweetheart. It’s over.” Clove mocks, stalking towards the blonde. “You should close your eyes for this next part. I’m afraid it won’t be pretty, or painless.” She grins, raising an eyebrow as the mercenary chooses to stare down. “Your choice, princess.”

 She pulls her arm back and strikes the blonde across the face with the crowbar. The woman’s face whips to the side, spitting out blood.

 “If you have any family left alive. I will find them, hunt them down, and beat their faces in with this crowbar. And I’ll let them know how you died.” Clove promises, bring her arm back again. “Every hit will be for anyone you ever hurt. They get their revenge, today.”

 A hit to the stomach. “For Katniss.”

 A bone shattering blow to the elbow. “For Hunter.”

 A quick succession of blows to the torso. “For everyone you’ve ever killed, for fun.”

 One final hit aimed for the spine. “For your family, hurt because you went after someone I care about.”

 Clove walks back to the barely breathing mercenary, blood pooling around her head. “Now, where were we?” She asks, lightly tapping the crowbar against her jaw. “Oh yes, who am I judge?”

 The girl’s breathing stutters slightly, as Clove raises the crowbar. She struggles to close her eyes but is unable. Clove takes pity on her and closes them for her.

 “Happy thoughts.” Clove deadpans, bringing the crowbar down on the girl’s face. She hits the girl over and over again, bludgeoning her to death. She hits her until she can’t lift the crowbar and swaps it for her fists.

 She hits the girl until the mercenaries find her, and they grab her arms, wrenching her up. They force her to face Danvers, who has tears in her eyes. Her partner is checking blondie for a pulse.

 “No point, she’s dead.” Clove croaks out, hanging limp in the mercenaries grasps. “Might as well kill me, I don’t have anything to live for. Not anymore.”

 Danvers lunges forward, grabbing her vest. She shoves Clove against a crate, stepping right into her personal space. “What about Katniss Everdeen, the girl that destroyed us and didn’t care less? She not something you want to live for?” Danvers asks, her voice cold and full of anger. “Guess it doesn’t even matter, she’ll be dead soon.”

 “Just leave her alone!” Clove yells, catching Danvers with a right hook. “She never wanted any of this! She had no choice! Katniss was only a kid, trying to save her sister! She is traumatised! She watched kids die right in front of her! Her friend died in her arms! And I brought it up to hurt Thresh! Make him kill me! But it affected her! She felt responsible for that little girl! And she ended up starting a stupid rebellion! A rebellion that ended up killing her sister! How could you think she wanted any of this! All she wanted was to save her sister, but in the end, she lost her! You leave her alone! Don’t kill her! Let her live!”

 “Why would you care? You’ll be dead soon. There won’t be anyone left to protect her.” Danvers smirks, unbothered by her newly split lip and bruising jaw.

 “I won’t be going quietly, and she still has me.” Clove spits, bits of a plan forming. “You forget, I’m insane and I don’t die easy.” Clove lets a smirk curl her lips, the plan solidifying. “The blonde girl, she was family to you. I told her I’d kill her family. I’m not a fan of breaking promises.”

 Danvers clenches her jaw, her grip on Clove’s vest tightening. “You can kill me, but you’ll be dead in seconds. Stab me, shoot, they’ll start shooting. You’ll never make it out of here.”

 “You’ll be surprised what I can do. They can’t exactly shoot if they’re already dead, now can they?” Clove asks, subtly pulling the pin of a grenade on Danvers’s belt. “And who said I’d kill you first?”

 Clove yanks the grenade free, throwing it into the group while simultaneously elbowing Danvers in the face. She stifles a laugh as no one notices the grenade, all focused on their leader.

 “Wrong move, bitch.” Danvers snarls, using one hand to slowly choke Clove. “I’m going to kill you slowly for that. Whatever plan you have won’t work.”

 “Oh no, wrong again.” Clove laughs, closing her eyes and bracing herself for the explosion.

 The grenade explodes spectacularly, sending everyone flying and knocking crates. The crate Clove was pinned against gets shoved back, Clove thrown somewhere over it. A crate falls over her, wedged between two others.

 Explosions wreck the warehouse, a chain reaction caused by the nearby crates filled with all kinds of explosives. What doesn’t explode, burns, as the weakened warehouse mostly collapses, trapping any survivors in the rubble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o

**Author's Note:**

> Bye, hope ya enjoyed and please leave Kudos


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